Half Herself, Until He Comes
by theMatthewReview
Summary: "Half Herself, Until He Comes" is the solution to the whole problem of who Mary should be with, who she should be married to - being without her true love, alone to raise their baby son, is a nightmare. In this fic, Mary wakes up from a morphine-induced nightmare after just having given birth to George, and finds the one who will be by her side to love and comfort them both.


Dr. Clarkson and Isobel Crawley had done everything possible from the time Lady Mary had gone into labour that momentous September afternoon. She had been delivered of a beautiful little boy, two and one half weeks premature. The infant resembled his father, Matthew, in all but the colour of his hair. At present the as-yet unnamed child slept upon his grandmother's shoulder. Yet Nana Isobel and the country doctor watched helplessly as a fever raged in the lad's mother.

'Matthew, Matthew,' Mary groaned again and again, under the influence of the painkiller that Dr. Clarkson had administered, unable to hear anyone in her present state.

Isobel tried her best to soothe her daughter-in-law, holding her hand even as Baby slept, crooning,

'Darling girl… Matthew is on his way, he'll be here soon. He'll be so pleased - your son is so handsome…'

In fact, Matthew sat in the hospital waiting room already, worrying because of a misunderstanding that his wife was not yet able to receive any visitors because of her condition.

'I wish I could see Mary. Doesn't she need me?' he thought.

And he prayed silently:

'Lord, I won't make any bargains with You. But I do trust You to bring about the best, which is actually an end to her suffering.'

Mary dreamed a long, strange nightmare in her delirium, one that began with a most horrific event, based on her assessment that she was only half herself without her beloved husband. Imagine - the one man who understood her, who had helped her to see that she did have a heart, taken away from her in a horrible accident.

'Oh, Matthew…' came a plaintive cry from the depths of her heavy somnolence. 'My darling….'

All sorts of things congealed in her mind, of old suitors with whom nothing had ever ignited a spark, of long obligatory soirees in the Great Hall, and even of some disagreeable friend of the Branksomes who had looked in on some sick pigs during the previous month. Her old childhood friend Tony Foyle as pushy as ever, Viscount Napier being pushed at her once again and as bashful as ever…

_'You're a widow now, you must marry for the sake of the child…'_

_'But Matthew left his whole estate to me, without any strings. Matthew was always on my side. What's the hurry?'_

_'Your Matthew was a wonderful man, but think of the future. What would he have wanted?' _

„, '_Do you know better than I what my Matthew would have wanted? And how could I ever marry anyone without love, even if it's expected of me?'_ she declared to all three as they crowded around her, anxious as if they hoped to win a prize. _'It's absurd. I love my husband…'_

Strange notions that the precious little lad that had fulfilled all their hopes could not replace his father also added to the ridiculousness of Mary's phantasm. Yet…

'Matthew, my darling, where are you?'

… she did not awaken, and limbs thrashed and pain redoubled.

'Richard, I wonder if anything is keeping my son. She's been calling out to him, and maybe only he can bring her any relief,' Isobel fretted to Dr. Clarkson some fifteen or twenty minutes after Mary had fallen into that nightmare state.

'Why don't I go out into the waiting room and ask if the registrar has heard anything about Matthew coming?' Dr. Clarkson suggested then.

'That sounds like a good idea,' Isobel smiled a brave smile.

In about fifteen seconds, the doctor had a better answer than he had sought, for Matthew sat in the waiting room, a tiny bit disheveled from his journey home from Scotland.

'Mr. Crawley! There you are! We thought you had not come yet.'

'Hallo, Dr. Clarkson! How is my wife? Has anything happened?' Matthew asked, standing up, facing the man.

'She's been calling out for you; I wish we'd known you were here. You two have a beautiful son.'

Matthew smiled, just a little because he wondered if Mary was all right.

'May I see them?'

By all means, Mr. Crawley, by all means. And may I congratulate you…'

'Thank you, Doctor.'

Matthew was led into the room where his mother held a tiny boy in her arms, and his beloved lay caught up in her strange dreams.

_'No. I won't ever be untrue to him… please, don't…'_

'Matthew! My darling son, come quickly!' Isobel urged, gesturing that he might sit down in her chair as she continued to hold her grandson.

The young man made haste to his wife's bedside, and took her hand gently into his own.

'Is Mary's life at all in danger?'

'No… it was a difficult birth, the boy coming early, but she should be all right now that you are here.'

Relief came in a flood over Matthew's handsome face, and after a word of thanks, he turned to her, squeezing her hand.

'Matthew... Matthew...'

'I'm here, Mary. It's all right. You're safe, here with us. Here with me.'

The new mother's eyes flickered open at the sound of her husband's voice.

'Matthew - ? Oh, thank God you're here! I haven't lost you!' Mary exclaimed, however weakly.

'Why, of course you haven't, and you won't, my dearest…' he assured her. 'You must have had a dream.'

Matthew kept holding Mary's hand and looking into her eyes.

'It was very strange... I dreamed that the very worst thing that could have happened, did happen… thank God it hasn't, Matthew. Thank God!'

'Oh, a wonderful thing has happened, Mary. We have a son, and Mother is holding him, right over there. He's so tiny!'

'I'm so happy. We have a son, you and I. And how I love you…'

'I love you so much… thank God that you and the little one are both all right. And I won't leave you. I'll be right here, as a father should be.

The child was named George Matthew, at Mary's insistence, and neither of the Manchester Crawleys minded this at all. There was some fuss (_'There are no Georges in our immediate family tree.' 'Nor were any Matthews until our dear boy arrived.' 'But what will people think?'_) until the day the boy was christened on the ninth day following his birth. George looked splendid in a linen gown trimmed with cutwork lace, the one in which his father had been brought to the font. He did not fuss at all during the sweet little rite, and Anna and Tom stood as his God-parents. All present marveled at his soft, wispy hair, 'his father's eyes' and his charming expressions. Matthew and Mary received congratulations from all those who witnessed the baptism, and heard 'Oh, such a beautiful boy!' and other such statements quite often. (_'How much does he weigh?' 'He doesn't let you sleep through the night, yet, does he?'_)

Indeed, George could not sleep through the night without nourishment. A few nights after the christening was just such a night, and while baby fell back to sleep in his bassinet, Mary melted into Matthew's arms, tucked into his bosom, the loveliest place she knew.

'You're such a loving mother, Mary… just as I thought you would be… do you know that?' he whispered as he held her, with his long, loving fingers and his generous palms sweeping over her back and shoulders.

'Thank you, my dearest…. I was a bit worried that I would not be the same sort of parent you are.'

Mary's hand moved like a wren's wing over the fine, fair hair upon her true love's chest, until it stayed there, pressed to him where his heart beat.

'Ah, Matthew, my love... you're not going to believe the favour I need to ask you…'

'Ask me, darling. And count on me.'

She drew back a little from him, for the sake of looking into his eyes by the autumn moonlight.

'Sweetheart, do you think we could move out of here, into Ripon, or at least one of the cottages?'

'We certainly could, Mary,' came his low, sweet voice, sounding both surprised and pleased. 'But what has convinced you?'

'I'm persuaded that our little son needs us to bring him up in a happy place, not too complicated, not too posh, not too fancy…'

'Yes….' Matthew purred, 'go on, my precious…'

'I want our children to grow up like you did, Matthew. They'd miss out if they couldn't have a simple childhood.'

Matthew could not believe his ears. Over him came great tenderness, and a smile that started deep within him as he listened to her go on.

'Don't get me wrong, my darling; I do love my father. But I love and believe in you, more than ever. Take us away…

He kissed her sweetly, deeply, in the darkness.

'…. please…'

'Oh, yes. Yes, of course I shall….'

And another kiss soothed them both, cementing their resolve.


End file.
